ghost town
by psychicshipping
Summary: something I cooked up in English 101 that I thought you all might like for old times' sake. ONESHOT


Ghost town

I opened my eyes and saw a ghost town. While I couldn't see a single living soul, the voices of the dead cried up from the soil and wind. I could smell the blood of ages gone by and that of more recent conflicts. It seemed to me that something drew people here only to be killed in the end. If it was a demonic beast that lured people here or something far more sinister I did not know, however I could feel the icy claws of terror beginning to grasp at my heart. But the peace of this place belied the tang of blood that I smelled so clearly.

The wind was dancing across my face, pleading with me to fly on its timid breeze. But behind this request, I could hear the cries of agony and loss that the wind had witnessed countless times. It carried the smell of flowers, but that perfume was a fabrication to mask the sweat and blood that it wore with disregard to the dead. This wind was cunning, all part of the trap that someone or something had laid for the weary traveler or family. After all, this town was perfect to live in as it was already built. Or at least, it would have been, if anyone actually lived here.

I decided to see if the earth would bring forth any secrets or whether it was just a silent witness. I took off my shoes to feel the soil and found it to be cool and moist, perfect for planting or just walking around in on a hot day. The dirt was almost as soft as moss and almost begged me to just lay down in it to take a nap. It would be nice to stay awhile and enjoy a rich harvest and a great place to run and play or take the occasional afternoon nap. It would appear that the earth and wind were both working towards something. But what is that thing, and did it have something to do with the 'ghost' part of ghost town?

I quickly put my shoes back on and looked up at the sky, only to find that although it had been as bright as day just a second before, now a pale blue moon shone down on me. With many deep craters scattered on its face, the moon gave me the impression of a guardian, protecting the cold, harsh landscape.

I noticed that the land was remarkably flat, allowing the wind free range. But then I noticed that right behind the town stood three strange hills. They were a dark, dusky green and spotted with blues, reds and almost every other color that the plant world had to display. Were they burial mounds or just some strange geological phenomenon? However, they could also be something much more sinister.

I began to look around further and noticed that in the dirt around town there were bursts of emerald, crimson, and violet foliage. The streets were alive with plants of all different kinds.

It reminded me of an old western town. There was a big clock tower right at the edge of town. There were only four streets that cut the town into quarters. Those roads were very dusty and seemed just right for the occasional tumbleweed.

On each of the four corners were important places of business. On one was the saloon, the second had an undertaker, the third had a general store and the last was a blacksmith where you could still hear the clanging of the hammer against the steel.

The town itself was remarkably well preserved. It was almost as if it had been built only a few weeks ago. I felt the wood and discovered; to my surprise; that it was worn with years and yet still had that new wood look. I then noticed the nails that were used to construct the town. They were shiny with apparent agelessness. But upon closer examination I saw that they too were far older than their looks would lead you to believe.

What had caused the sudden evacuation of such a seemingly nice town? Or had they evacuated at all? There was the smell of blood and sweat; could this place be nothing more than a glorified graveyard? Whatever the answer was, the hair on the back of my neck was beginning to stand up. Something was seriously wrong and the mysteries of the past of this place would soon catch up with the future and something told me I didn't want to be around when that happened.

I decided to start with the saloon as it was a good a place to start as any and so I walked in with a swagger worthy of Clint Eastwood. What caught my attention right off the bat was how clean this place was, as if it had only shut down for the night. Not only that, but there were fresh liquor bottles sitting on the counter. I could smell the blood but saw not a drop. Whatever had happened, it had been recent.

I heard the sound of boots outside and turned to see a man with black hair and beady green eyes pointing a gun right at my heart. He was about 6' 1" with a good bit of stubble, as if he hadn't shaved in days. He smelled of stale liquor and gunpowder, I couldn't place the alcohol but it certainly wasn't anything brewed on Earth. I detected the faintest trace of nightshade enshrouded in the alcohol, not enough to kill someone but unless you had a stomach of steel and a will of iron you'd be looking at a good week of vomiting and other such nastiness.

Just as suddenly as he had appeared he was gone again! Were the spirits of this place trying to warn me to get out or was I just going crazy? Then I heard the rich baritone clanging of the bell in the clock tower. I began to tick off the rings and as I did I felt impending doom rushing towards me. One, two, three, I felt darkness beginning to haze the corners of my vision. Four, five, six, a deathly cold wind was beginning to blow and cut through my bones. Seven, eight, nine, I spun around to see Death fast approaching. Ten, eleven, twelve, THE END!


End file.
